In a Lifetime
Legal Disclaimer-Fireworks, Marvel and Tribune Entertainment own them, I'm just playing in the driveway.
Author's Note-Serious note time. This is an AU of my own creation, post "The Assault". I'm writing it till the images stop coming, but, you need to know I am heading into the land of dark, angsty Jesse. (Someone pick up Laily, I think she just passed out). Reviews are adored, loved and very appreciated.
Chapter 1
The liquor was poured into the glass quickly and the splash was added without a single drop leaving the glass. It felt good in his hand, and with a smile he thanked the female bartender, who in turn smiled back. He took a sip, the bourbon raging a fire down the back of his throat and calming the nerves that played havoc with the surroundings around him.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was good to finally be done with the hellish day he had, starting at 5 am with the coldest shower he could stand. Work had it's own hellish moments, then he had gotten the call to meet her here.
He had been in the bar for a about ten minutes when he finally felt alone. When he was working, it was a huge team and he never felt any hope of solitude. He was off duty, though, and bars were allowed in his line of work, everyone needed a place to unwind after a long and tedious day defending the president.
He loosened his tie, leaned back and watched the door. The message had said she wanted to meet him at 5:30, it was 5:35 and he was seriously annoyed. She knew his time schedule wasn't his anymore. It was becoming more of a matter of respect that she would show up on time.
It was ten minutes later, but he knew the second he smelled the perfume that she was there. She had entered, taken off her raincoat, put it over her arm and walked to him, her stance cat like and perfect, just like he always remembered. She looked even more amazing and even more beautiful.
"I'll have what he's having," she said, sitting on the stool next to him and meeting his silent glare.
"I see that Beau and Angel didn't call to let you know I was going to be late," she began, putting a hand on his, "Sorry."
He couldn't help but smile. That was the Shalimar he knew. If she was late she was apologetic.
"It's okay," he replied, leaning forward and embracing her, "God, I have missed you."
His whisper was barely audible. She returned the hug, the familiarity of years and sorrow burrowing into him. He wanted to hug her for hours, just to have that feeling of home.
"Me too."
They separated and sat in silence as the bartender poured the drink and Shalimar quickly downed it. She always had been able to drink him under the table. She order another and this time, sipped it.
"Why did you call, Shalimar?" he began, not wanting to fight with her, but trying to hide the annoyance in his voice, "Was I really worth tracking down?"
"Yes, you always will be," she said, meeting his sorrowed gaze, "What the hell is wrong with you? What have I done?"
"Nothing," his voice was soft and distant, "Just an extremely long day, and I have to admit I am a bit stressed out. It's not you. It could never be you."
"I deserve it though, I haven't been the best at keeping in touch," she said, "It's just after..."
"Please, Shal, don't go there," he pleaded, "I don't know if I can take it today."
"You remember what today is?" she asked.
He nodded and thanked the bartender again as she poured him another bourbon. It was a perfect drink to dull the anger and the frustration at the memories. It was the perfect day to get drunk on. She had loved him, and for her to leave like she did was a pain that he had carried every single day since. It left a hole in his heart that he didn't like to admit to. Most of his self-worth had left with her.
"I don't want to think about it, Shalimar," he said, turning on his barstool to look out at the empty street beyond the window, "You came alone?"
"It might be five years, but I still can take care of myself, and Brennan," Shalimar's reply was curt, yet playful, "Let me take of you."
He turned back and met her gaze. It was the sisterly gaze he remembered and loved for years. She wanted to know how he was doing. He didn't know if he could tell her. It hurt too much. He wasn't doing all that well, but he really didn't know if he wanted to be saved.
The exhaustion was eating at him though. She was pushing all the right buttons. She always had that skill.
"Shalimar, I don't need to be taken care of," he protested, "I just need some time"
"Take a walk with me," Shalimar said, standing up and leaving a crisp twenty for the bartender, "We'll talk."
A walk would do him well. He took her hand, grabbed his suit jacket and walked outside with her. The rain had stopped and the air finally felt clean again. They started down the street in silence. The clean air was enhancing his buzz and he felt good. The nerves of seeing her after so long were getting to him. She stopped at the edge of a park, and looked up at him.
"Who the hell are you and what have you done with the Jesse Kilmartin that I once knew?" Shalimar asked, "You look like you have aged twenty years since I last saw you. This is not you."
It might have been the bourbon, but Jesse found her comment to be extremely funny. He laughed and put an arm around her shoulders. Her body language wasn't that of humor. She was pissed at him.
"Dammit, Shal, what have I done now?" Jesse asked, stopping to stare at her.
"It's not the now, Jess, it's the then," Shalimar was angry, her voice low and deadly, "Why did you leave?"
'So, that's it,' he thought to himself, as his surrogate sister stared at him reflecting all of his pain in her eyes, 'She wants to know why I wasn't man enough to stay with them when it all went to hell.'
"As soon as I figure it out Shal, I'll get back to you," Jesse said, his anger and hurt radiating, he had been hoping for a good reunion and this was rapidly turning to hell.
She grabbed his arm.
"You aren't getting away that easily," she continued, "I know why Lexa left, she's kept in touch, but you, I don't get it, and you doing what you're doing now, I don't get it, Jesse."
He glared at her as his arm became intangible. She lost her grip.
"What I am doing now is important," he growled, "I'm protecting the President of the United States, Shalimar, what mutant gets to say that on a regular basis?"
Shalimar stared at him. She wasn't aware that he was that far up on the Secret Service food chain. Jesse noticed her shocked look.
"What, you didn't think I could do it?" Jesse was used to her caution where his personal danger level was concerned, "It's quite the secret gig. I go on all the big events, have an access to the woman that no one else has. I love it."
"No you don't," she said, "It's written all over your face. Why? Why would you go and do this?"
"To protect my country, to serve the country," Jesse started the standard line.
Shalimar's anger was palpable. She let him finish what he was saying, but she had to breathe for a moment so she didn't slug him.
"You done?" she asked.
"Yeah, and I think that we're done," he was raging now; her attitude toward him was sign enough that their meeting was over, "Goodbye Shalimar."
"No, no way are you saying that, Jesse," Shalimar's eyes flashed, "You have to come back with me."
"No, Shalimar, I don't," Jesse turned and headed down the sidewalk, "My days with Mutant X are over."
"No, Jesse, they aren't," she said, realizing what he meant, "We found Adam."